


suffering for love

by heartjoongs (krucxa)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Polyamory, bc aren't we all ?, hongjoong is soft, if u get thru the angst in the 1st chapter hgkjsh, im sad and projecting. whats new, no beta we die like men, scratch that all of them are soft. and sad, seonghwa too, theres background 2ho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-01-05 09:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18363338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krucxa/pseuds/heartjoongs
Summary: San's coughing up yellow hyacinths and as far as he's concerned, that's not a sign of good health. Neither physical nor mental.





	1. i miss you so much,

**Author's Note:**

> thx to eden's song and me generally feeling like shit! now this exists. don't ask me, i don't know either  
> i've had, like. the worst writers block lately. oh my god. but im finally posting something again! even if it's angst :^)  
> this is not beta read, but i hope y'all enjoy it either way! (as much as one can enjoy angst. fjbsjdhsjd)

i.

San's coughing up yellow hyacinths and as far as he's concerned, that's not a sign of good health. Neither physical nor mental.

He's sitting in his and Yunho's shared room, hunched over and staring at the few wrinkled petals cradled in his palm. They're an inanimate object, yet they seem to taunt him, mocking his dishevelled state, poking at the hollow ache deep in his chest.

He should probably do something about it. Tell the other members, or the staff, or really, anyone. A doctor, maybe. That would be a good idea. A doctor would surely know how to fix this situation.

But San's always been the best at ignoring his problems, so he only keeps blinking tiredly at the petals as if his gaze alone would make them speak, explain to him what they're suddenly doing, growing in his lungs. But as the inanimate object they are, the flowers don't give him an answer, remaining, unmoving, in his grasp.

He wants to destroy them. To tightly close his fingers around them, to crumble and shatter the petals into tiny torn pieces, small enough to be unrecognizable for a flower, hopefully getting rid of his emotions as well.

Except, he doesn't have the energy to do that.

And so he stares. And the petals stare back. If petals could see, that is. They don't really have any eyes, but it sure does feel as if they're gazing straight back at him.

_Powerless_ , they seem to say. _Hopeless_.

He doesn't have to hear them, though. He knows that already.

And so, the flowers end up stuffed into the trash can, buried under a few tissues to hide them. Not that anyone would look for them, but San feels the need to do so. Ashamed.

The tissues will only help him cover it up. He's just sick, he'll say later, if any of his members were to ask. He's sure they will, because they're all sweet like that, they all care too much, and that's exactly what makes it hurt so much to hide this. But hey, technically, it's not like he's outright lying. He is sick, kind of, just not in the way the words will make them think.

And if that's all it takes for them not to worry as much, San's willing to play with his words.

ii.

The first time he's noticed something's wrong, it was the usual movie night with the other members, some boring, prolonged scene that's supposed to be enthralling playing out on the screen, and San's sprawled out, head resting on Wooyoung's lap as he rolls his eyes at the badly written dialogue.

He doesn't know what his best friend sees in it. Wooyoung's gaze is locked on the TV, seemingly forgetting to even breathe as his fingers keep playing with San's hair halfmindedly. At least he's having fun, San thinks, so he chooses to stay silent and keep himself at least somewhat entertained by looking at the other members for their own reactions.

First, his eyes cast to Yunho. Unsurprising, since the boy is so tall it's kind of hard not to notice him. He's brought his legs up to his chest, his chin hooked over his knees as he stares intently at the screen. He doesn't seem as excited as Wooyoung, but he still follows the plot quietly, contrary to Mingi who squints at the movie as if he's too focused on some detail in the background than what's happening at hand. He's resting his head on Yunho's shoulder, a rather cute sight, and Yunho doesn't seem to mind.

What's even cuter, is that apparently it's cuddle fest now, because Jongho's right next to Mingi, fingers digging into Mingi's jumper as he glares at whatever just happened in the movie, his lips parting, and he looks so ridiculously insulted, San can't help but crack a smile.

Following Jongho, Yeosang is comfortably nested in Jongho's sweater, somewhere between lying in his lap and tucked into Jongho's chest. His eyes are wide open, clearly invested in the movie, and he looks almost like a delighted child. He's barely shorter than Jongho, but curled in on himself like that, he does look exceptionally tiny.

Then, San's gaze falls to Seonghwa and Hongjoong and his heart stops for a second.

The two are sitting slightly to the side, or at least that's what it looks like to San in his messed up, sad and emotional brain, even though Seonghwa's and Yeosang's thighs are literally pressed against each other ㅡ but Seonghwa's arm is circled around Hongjoong's shoulders protectively, and the younger leans into him with a soft smile present on his lips. There's a smudge of a blush on Seonghwa's ears, complimented by the dust of pink scattered over Hongjoong's cheeks. The only thing that San can think right now is how domestic they look.

There's an uncomfortable tickle at the back of his throat, the pressure barely noticeable but enough to irritate him, and he clears his throat but the feeling doesn't go away.

Reaching his hand up, he tugs at Wooyoung's wrist and gently pushes his fingers away. The boy immediately turns to glance at him unquestioningly, but before he has any time to ask what's wrong, San's already mouthing a jumbled excuse about going to the bathroom.

He takes his time slipping away, both as not to disturb the others and not to look suspicious. He doesn't want to worry Wooyoung.

With a wave of his hand, he leaves the room, but just as he's sure his steps won't be heard over the movie, he books it to the bathroom.

By the time he closes the doors after himself, locking them for the good measure, his heartbeat is hammering in his ears, and his hands are clammy as he clasps them over his mouth. Any second now, he thinks he's going to vomit.

It's both a relief and a further distress when instead of vomiting, he only coughs once. Except, just as he thinks that's all, he can't even breathe in properly when a whole coughing fit shakes through him, as if there's something nagging at his throat, suffocating him and his body is uselessly trying to get rid of it, until finally, finally, another cough doesn't follow his struggle, and he's heaving, gasping for air. His hands shoot out to grasp onto the nearest wall, in an attempt to hold himself upright, but then a smudge of yellow goes flying, falling neatly to the floor. It lies pathetically under his gaze, a yellow hyacinth petal.

He only knows the name due to his mom liking flowers, bringing the various plants into their house when he was barely a kid. It's one of the only flowers he's managed to remember, and the wet petal looks almost as pathetic, lying on the ground between his feet, as he currently feels.

He's not sure what it means just yet, but he's terrified.

Where a yellow petal lies, horrified tears follow.

iii.

San's used to taking cold showers in the morning.

It goes exactly like this. Freezing water in the morning, burning hot water in the evening. Something about calories, about body having to get used to the temperature, whatever. He doesn't really remember anymore. It's a habit from his teenage years, something he's never really grew out of, due to his bad mental state and bad eating habits that people usually deem an eating disorder.

San prefers not to give it a name. After all, this is his only talent. Bottling up his feelings, and ignoring his problems.

He shivers under the cold water that hits his back and flows down his body, but it's okay. He's tired, hasn't eaten anything yet, and his knees feel like they're gonna give out under his weight any moment, but that's fine. Cold water is the only thing that seems to wake him up properly, anyway, and he needs to be at least somewhat conscious to attend his vocal practice, so he has to manage.

A harsh knock at the door reaches him through the sound of dripping water, and he snaps his head to the side when he hears Hongjoong's voice, "San?"

"Yeah?" he shouts back, turning down the stream of water a little, just enough so he knows Hongjoong will hear him, but not so much that he notices the uncertainty in his voice nor his teeth chattering.

There's a sigh, as if Hongjoong's relieved San can hear him, before the boy calls out again, "you've got practice in twenty minutes! Get out, lazybones!"

He follows the word with a chuckle, his voice sounding so fond it kind of hurts. Scratch that, no, it actually hurts. In his chest, low in his throat, and San only nibbles on his lip, stomping down the feeling.

Hongjoong's so effortlessly cute. San thinks he's going mad.

"Okay, just a second," he says, waiting for Hongjoong's acknowledging hum. He listens for the steps that slowly fade out as the older makes his way down the hall, and only a few seconds later does he let himself cough.

It's only a small, quiet scoff this time, two bright petals washed down the drain, and San doesn't pay it much attention. He gets out of the shower, dries himself off and tries not to think about his messed up perception of his own body as he drags skinny jeans up his legs. It's not the easiest thing to do, but somehow, they make him feel less disgusting than baggy sweatpants would.

He washes his teeth with the knowledge that he won't eat any breakfast today, then walks out of the bathroom.

(Later, a dance practice follows, and he only regrets his choice when he almost faints. He stumbles over thin air, and the only reason he doesn't fall down is because he clutches tightly to Mingi's oversized shirt, which makes the taller boy throw his arms around him protectively before either of them actually realize what's happening.

"You okay?" asks the boy, his eyes concerned as he stares down at him, and San reassures him that he's completely fine, but doesn't let go.

If that's not a clear sign that he's lying, his shaking knees are, and Mingi only juts out his lower lip before catching Seonghwa's gaze.)

iv.

San doesn't see why Seonghwa thinks it's necessary for him to leave the practice.

Sure, he's not feeling his best, but he's okay. He'll manage. So he really doesn't understand why Seonghwa's looking at him like that, as if he's a powerless child, or a sick old man that needs to be taken care of. He can hold himself up just fine, except when Mingi let him go for a second and he stumbled and almost fell to the ground, but that doesn't count, he was just taken off guard, that's all.

Seonghwa doesn't seem to believe him, though, and if San leans into him almost entirely as they make their way out of the room, the older thankfully doesn't comment on it.

He can feel Seonghwa's concerned gaze on the side of his face, but he's set on ignoring it. Maybe he's just a tiny bit bitter.

Because this is Seonghwa. Hongjoong's boyfriend. The one person that lives through San's fantasy, the one person that has something San wishes he did.

But it's hard to be angry at Seonghwa. It's hard to be jealous of Seonghwa and his relationship with Hongjoong. After all, it's not his fault that San caught feelings for Hongjoong, just as it isn't his fault that San's coughing up yellow flowers.

San wishes he could be angry at Seonghwa. He wished he could blame the older, but as much as he tries, he still loves his friend the same, and it's kind of childish of him to actually try and hate Seonghwa for being happy.

So he eventually does meet the older's gaze, and that's when Seonghwa finally speaks up. As if he was waiting for San's full attention, for San to focus on him entirely, and it's so stupidly considerate, San kind of wants to cry.

"Are you feeling any better?"

A tiny shake of his head. No. No he isn't.

Seonghwa seems kind of reluctant, kind of hesitant, as if tiptoeing over what he should say and what he shouldn't, as not to make San feel any more shitty. But then, he seems to come to a decision, and he opens his mouth again, "did you eat anything?"

Avoiding Seonghwa's gaze, he mumbles back a meek, "no."

He doesn't know why he feels so ashamed to admit this to Seonghwa. It's only a missed breakfast. Nothing too important.

But Seonghwa's staring at him so gently, and he seems so worried about him, it makes his heart clench.

"Will you eat something if it's me who makes it?"

Glancing up at Seonghwa, he feels a bittersweet tickle at the back of his neck.

Seonghwa. Hongjoong's boyfriend. San's friend. He seems so kind, looking at San without bothering to hide his concern, and his eyebrows make a crease on his forehead. His eyes are halflidded and there's something so soft about his gaze, San can't place what emotion flickers through them.

"Yeah," he murmurs, feeling Seonghwa's hand brushing a comforting circle into his back, "okay."

Why is Seonghwa smiling so brightly at _him_ , when he has a whole Hongjoong to spend his time and attention on?

(For some reason, before he goes to sleep that day, he coughs up another handful of petals.

He doesn't dare think about it.)

v.

"Hey, San," Yunho's voice reaches him from the other side of the room, where the said boy is sitting by a desk, legs perched on top of it as he tries to find the best angle to take a selfie.

San thinks it's kind of ridiculous. Someone as good looking as Yunho would look good at any angle, so why does Yunho look so distressed? As if any picture he took looked uglier than the previous ones ㅡ it makes his heart seize in alarm.

"Yeah, big guy?" he replies, rolling to his side in his bed. His fringe falls into his eyes, but he's too busy cuddling Shiber to fix it.

"Do you think Hongjoong's been acting strangely lately?" he asks, but he doesn't meet San's eye. San's pretty sure it's not because of the selfie he's taking.

"Why are you asking?"

Yunho purses his lips at that, finally giving up on his struggle, and he sets the phone down onto the desk before facing San correctly, "I don't know, he just... seems kind of quiet, the last few days."

San only hums noncomittaly, because what else can he reply to something like that?

"And I thought... since Hongjoong seems to trust you, maybe he'd tell you whyㅡ if you asked."

_Hongjoong seems to trust you_. It's all that San manages to catch, what he focuses on despite the ugly feeling brewing inside of him. Yeah, Hongjoong might trust him a little bit, exactly as much as he does the other members. Certainly not as much as he does trust Seonghwa.

"He'd probably tell you too. We're all members of the same band, after all," the words feel bitter on his tongue as they slip past his lips, "besides, he has Seonghwa. They can talk it out on their own."

Yunho's eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't bring up San's sudden change of mood. Actually, he doesn't reply at all, and it's until San clears his throat that he meets his eye again, "also, Yunho?"

"Yeah?"

All of Yunho's attention on him, he tips his head and points at the phone lying next to Yunho, "post them. I'm sure you look great, you always do. Atiny will love it."

If Yunho feels shocked, he doesn't say it ㅡ but there's a small smile tugging at his lips, and San feels proud of himself for a second.

Before he coughs up another petal that is. But Yunho's too distracted to notice, and San doesn't blame him. They all have their own problems, anyway.

vi.

Most of the time, he's pretty sure he's already over his eating disorder.

Because he manages to eat with his members, manages to eat with his friends, surrounded by staff or not. He eats and he drinks and his mind scolds him only a tiny bit but otherwise he's fine.

He thinks a little about the calories, but then he's reminded of their daily practices, and he knows he's going to burn them anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem, right? Because Wooyoung is grinning at him devilishly before throwing a pocky at him, and before San can throw anything back Mingi's already retaliating with an entire spoon of sauce to Wooyoung's hair, and soon there's a whole food fight which only ends when Seonghwa shoots them his mastered _disappointed, but not surprised_ look, and it's all fun and games, so why would San think about his eating disorder any more, right?

But then his vision zeroes on Hongjoong, on his small frame and small smiles, small wrists and small shoulders that seem to drown under Seonghwa's hoodie. Then, his gaze follows to Hongjoong's small plate, which really isn't actually different than his own, but San's perception makes it seem so much tinier, compared to San's plate.

His own food is already halfway gone, some of it thrown away in the middle of the food fight, and suddenly, San feels sick.

He excuses himself, ignoring Jongho's not so convinced glance, and his friends' chatter dies down with every step he takes toward the bathroom.

Hands grasping at either side of the toilet bowl for support, he thinks it's kinda fucking ironic, pairing bulimia with vomiting literal flower petals.

vii.

He's sitting next to Jongho at the back of the van. The other members are acting so loud it's kind of impossible to talk freely, so the two of them just decided to keep their mouth shut. They weren't going to be heard over Mingi and Wooyoung's loud laughter, anyway.

San's pretty sure Yunho's making a joke, because he can hear Hongjoong's chuckle in between all the voices, and he can also make out Seonghwa's quiet scoff. He doesn't know why, but it's like his mind picks up their voices, picks up anything that's concerning the two. Hongjoong, he understands, he's had feelings for the boy for some time now. But Seonghwa? He's still unsure.

Maybe it's because he's jealous of him. That must be it, San thinks, and doesn't let himself overthink it any more.

There's a gentle touch to his shoulder, and he turns his head to shoot Jongho a questioning look. The boy is reaching his hand out, offering one of his earbuds, and San takes it with a smile.

As Eden's song fills his ear, he's suddenly so glad for Jongho's reassuring presence next to him.

It's still too loud for them to talk comfortably, but suddenly there's a phone in his lap. It's opened on a note, and San only peeks at Jongho for a second before he reads it. Jongho doesn't meet his gaze.

_Overthinking?_ it says. A single word, but enogh for San to crack a smile, because Jongho cares, even if he never shows it outright.

_Kind of, yeah_ , he types back, and hands the phone back.

He doesn't look at Jongho as he reads the text, instead giving him space and turning to stare out the window. It's raining, and the raindrops tap against the glass in a soothing rhythm. He's kind of sad that he doesn't get to hear it any clearer, not with the rest of the members speaking so loudly, and not with the music filling his right ear, but despite it all, he feels content.

The phone slips back into his hand.

_Is this about Hongjoong?_

He doesn't have it in himself to feel shocked. Jongho's always been good at observing people. It shouldn't come as a surprise to him that Jongho's noticed his unrequited admiration with Hongjoong.

_Unfortunately._

He taps the top of Jongho's palm before handing him the phone. It only takes a few seconds until Jongho types back his reply.

_Me too._

This time, when San looks up at Jongho, the boy is staring back at him with a tiny, but far from happy smile on his lips. How could San not realize this before? Jongho feels the same way as he does. It's clear, easy to spot just by the look Jongho's giving him, but the question is ㅡ about who?

He mouths the words, as if the others would be able to hear them despite their own conversation, and Jongho's eyes flit to the front before he takes the phone into his hands and his fingers shake the slightest bit as he taps someone's name into it.

_Yunho._

San doesn't really notice when his lips part in a gasp, but Jongho must find his expression quite amusing, as the younger huffs out a snicker.

They don't say anything after that, but the silence between them feels much more intimate than before. Because Jongho understands.

_I just wanna love you, touch you, be with you_ , Eden's voice reaches him through Jongho's earphone, and it's just a tiny bit ironic.

viii.

What San knows for a fact, is that falling in love with Hongjoong is an easy thing to do. Almost too easy, in his opinion.

Because how could it not?

San's pretty sure he's always kind of looked up to him. Not literally, because as captivating Hongjoong is, he's also almost ridiculously tiny, but in the methaporic way.

Because Hongjoong is their leader.

San could never imagine how nerveracking that could be. He barely manages to be apart of the group, with his stupid suppressed problems and self-destructive habits, for crying out loud. Just the thought of having so much responsibilty over them to top it all off is enough to stress him out.

But Hongjoong doesn't seem to mind. Not so much, at least. He calls himself their leader with a proud smile, and cries into Seonghwa's shoulder when things get to him too much.

San knows that, because contrary to popular belief, he's actually a light sleeper. And the walls are thinner than some of them realize.

And Hongjoong is such a positive person. San knows how much stress the boy must be under, yet he still manages to listen to their complains, he still puts up with their shenanigans, ha, even plays along, sometimes.

It's exactly then that San's reminded of how young Hongjoong actually is. He might be the leader, but he's not the oldest of their band. And even their oldest is barely a year older than San, yet at times it feels as if the age gap were so much bigger. But at times when Hongjoong and Seonghwa let themselves have fun, too, is when San takes a step back and really thinks about it.

They're so young, yet there's so much responsibility on Hongjoong's shoulders. San has no idea how the boy hasn't gone mad by now.

Maybe Yunho was right. Maybe the stress is finally getting to him, and Hongjoong's isolating himself. San makes a mental note to check up on him as soon as he has the chance.

Because despite it all, Hongjoong makes it all worth it.

He's beautiful inside and out, makes time for San whenever he needs it and keeps all their needs above his own.

The fact makes San want to take care of him in return.

(Seonghwa's already doing it for him, though. It makes him both relieved and jealous.

Relieved, because he's happy for them, happy that Hongjoong doesn't have to go through it all alone. Jealous, because he wants to be there for Hongjoong, as well.)

And then, Hongjoong is stunning. To the point that at hours that are so late that it's actually early, San lets himself wonder whether he's actually a human or an angel sent from heaven.

He sure does both act and look like it.

In other words, San doesn't regret falling in love with Hongjoong. Because Hongjoong makes it easy. Even as San coughs up yellow hyacinth petals while hiding under the covers in the middle of the night, desperately hoping that he doesn't wake up Yunho, and the flowers blooming in his lungs won't be discovered by any of them.

ix.

Curiosity killed the cat.

For the first time since San's heard the saying, he thinks he knows exactly what it means.

He's been curious. Coughing up yellow hiacynth, always the same kind of flower, always the same color. Not primroses, not tulips, just a hyacinth. Yellow, to be specific. It has to mean something, right?

That's why one night, when he's sure Yunho's already fell asleep, he finds himself squinting at his phone, the screen too bright for his eyes when he's already gotten used to the dark, but he's on a mission, so he doesn't pay it any more attention.

Yellow hiacynth, he types in, then stops. How should he word it? What, exactly, is he looking for? Flowers have a language of their own, he's heard of it a few times, so that's what he's got to look into, right?

So he adds it in, and he's holding his breath as the page loads. There are numerous results, but that's not what he focuses on, it's the first one that grabs his attention.

And of course. Of course that's it.

Yellow hiacynth represents only one thing, and it's exactly what San's been scared of ㅡ Jealousy.

Because jealousy is a disgusting feeling. It makes him feel guilty, because he knows, he shouldn't be mad at people for being happy, shouldn't be mad at them for having what he wants, and it's something he's ashamed of.

Because people talk. And people judge. And jealousy isn't seen as something exceptionally good. San's always been told that he should never feel jealous, because that's what makes you a bad person, and San doesn't want to be deemed a bad person.

But San is only a human. And jealousy is a human emotion. And so, San is sad, and jealous, and also kind of hopeless, and yellow hiacynth petals spill from his mouth as he coughs into his fist and it's all still really fucking ironic, because he's aware of Hongjoong and Seonghwa's presence just down the hall.

And instead of being there with them, he's sitting, hunched over in his bed, and there's a metallic tang in his mouth as the last petal is tinted red.

(He's too tired to worry about the mess he's made right now ㅡ it's a problem for Future San, not Present Overemotional San, to clean everything up.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: writes this  
> my brain, immediately after posting this: make a fluffy poly sequel with a happy ending because they deserve it  
> should i?? fkhsjdhs if y'all want a fluffy poly sequel, blease tell me, because i'm not gonna write it otherwise fkshjd  
> oh also my tumblr is @ starryhwa if u wanna hmu


	2. my heart is beating this hard, but why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, the lack of the petals only makes him even more worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! so i decided to actually make this a three chaptered fic instead, because i wasn't satisfied with the way it first ended. yay?  
> it's not beta read, but i hope u enjoy this anyway!!

x.

Yunho's alarm clock is getting louder with every second, the members are shouting down the hall and San's too tired to get out of bed yet ㅡ due to both him staying up late and the realization he's come to last night.

He can hear Yunho wiggling out of the bed and padding through the room in search of some clean clothes. But San's too sleepy, and too comfortable under the warm blankets, and he's still clutching Shiber to his chest and maybe he also kind of, doesn't really want to face Hongjoong yet.

Not that anything would be different between them. Not to Hongjoong at least. Because San's good at hiding his feelings, even if it ends with him having emotional breakdowns at dawn, but it still doesn't change the fact that seeing the boy he's in an unrequited love with is the last thing he'd want right now.

So he turns on his side and pushes the blanket higher, over his ears.

"San? Aren't you coming?" Yunho's voice fills the room after a second, slurred with sleep and confusion and San would rather die than make him worry.

"I don't feel too well," he mumbles instead, thankful to the fact that they've been roommates long enough for Yunho to understand him even through the layer of blankets and pillows and his own drowsiness.

There's a beat of silence, until Yunho finally replies with an, "okay. I'll let Hongjoong know."

Codename for _I'll get Hongjoong to check up on you later_. San's heart stops for a second.

"No, no, it's okayㅡ you don't have to," he rushes to say, and he almost turns around to face Yunho as he speaks, but he's too afraid Yunho will be able to tell his current mental state if he as much as meets San's eye.

So, his shoulders only stiffen as he waits for Yunho's response, and he knows he probably doesn't sound too convincing, but he also knows that Yunho's always been too nice for his own good, so he's kind of already expecting it when the boy says a hushed, "okay."

Even footsteps follow, and then the door to their room clicks shut. San waits a few more minutes, until he's sure everyone has left the dorm, until he actually pushes himself upright and casts his gaze to the big pillow on the side of his bed.

Taking a deep breath in, he thinks, okay, this is it, and reaches over to push the pillow aside.

A handful of flower petals lie, crumbled, on top of the mattress, the yellow of the hiacynth contrasting with the single red smudge. There's so many petals he knows he wouldn't be able to get rid of them with the rest of the members home. The flowers already would be hard to explain on their own, not to mention smeared with blood.

Blinking at the petals blearily, he scratches at his tummy as he kicks the blanket away. He climbs down the bunk bed, walking up to the desk and searching for any spare tissues. It doesn't take too long, and soon he's already collecting the petals on the center of the tissue before carefully tucking it into a tight ball.

Stepping out of his shared bedroom, he winces when his bare feet hit the cold wooden floor of the hall, and he tiptoes his way to the bathroom so he makes as little contact with it as possible.

Watching the mix of tissue and petals swirl down the toilet, he thinks it's a bit ironic, how much he hates letting go of the flowers with such a bitter meaning.

xi.

San probably should've expected this.

Sure, maybe Yunho respected his wish and didn't tell Hongjoong to check up on him, but he did something even worse.

He told Seonghwa.

At least that's what San assumes when in the middle of him calmly lazying around in Yunho's jumper and Wooyoung's sweatpants, enjoying a nice, warm cup of green tea and scrolling through his phone, suddenly there's a knock on the door and a very, unfortunately familiar voice speaks up, "hey, San, can I come in?"

And what can he do, say no?

So he only replies with a noncommittal hum, a mumble resembling the word _yeah_ but not quite, and he wiggles in his spot on Yunho's bed anxiously, as if his secret would be discovered by Seonghwa by simply entering his room. Which makes no sense, really, but San's mind never really made much sense, so he doesn't question it at this point.

He holds his breath in as the door tips open, Seonghwa poking his head in and looking around for San. Only when the older spots him, does he actually walk inside, and there's an uncertain smile on his lips as he makes his way up to the bunk bed.

"I heard you've been feeling kind of icky," the boy says, easy as that, and San hates this so much.

Because Seonghwa's clearly worried about him. San's immaturely jealous of him, and yet Seonghwa still stays the same, the kind person that he is. He looks out for San, cares about San, and remains so stupidly nice despite San's attempts at isolating himself.

Seonghwa makes him feel guilty.

Actually, no. That's worded incorrectly. He feels guilty because he's jealous of Seonghwa, that's all. Seonghwa didn't do anything wrong. So despite it all, Seonghwa is still San's friend, and San can at least try to keep civil.

"Yeah, I feel a lot better by now. Don't worry."

And it's worth it, because Seonghwa smiles at him again, this time smaller than before but so, so genuine, San's heart stutters in his chest.

He has no idea since when Seonghwa's smiles made him flustered, just as he has no idea since when he's thought about getting to feel that smile against his own lips ㅡ but he's already coughing up yellow hiacynths, he can't let himself fall for yet another member of their team. Especially not Seonghwa.

So he ignores the feeling and only smiles back as Seonghwa takes a seat on Yunho's bed, barely an arm's reach away from San.

"I'm glad you do," the boy replies, and it seems like he really means it. His face seems lighter, his shoulders relax just that tiny bit, and San almost feels bad for making him worry, "Hongjoong looked so close to losing it. He blamed himself for not noticing, you know."

Taken aback, San can only blink back at him for a second. Hongjoong? Blaming himself? Because of San?

That's the last thing San wanted to happen.

"Why, though? There's literally nothing he could've notice," he murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks, "I've only gotten sick this morning."

"You're right, Hongjoong's just," Seonghwa trails off, and a beat of silence follows. The older seems to be looking for the right words, and he taps his fingers against his thigh. San watches as they dance, trailing shapes into Seonghwa's jeans, and, enraptured, reaches out his hand to follow the trail of Seonghwa's fingers, before he even realizes what he's doing. At least the other doesn't seem to mind, and so San doesn't pull his hand back.

Finally, Seonghwa's eyes glint in the dim lighting, and he opens his mouth to speak again, "Hongjoong's just a really sensitive person. He takes a lot to himself, even when it's not his fault, which I guess is just what being the leader does to you, to be honest."

For some reason, San kind of expected this answer.

"I want to make him feel less insecure," he admits, words hushed but easily overheard by Seonghwa in the silence of the room.

The movement of Seonghwa's fingers stops, which causes San's hand to bump right into his. It takes a moment for San to notice, but before he can apologize, Seonghwa's already reaching out for his palm, carefully linking their fingers, firm but light enough so that San can pull away if he wants to.

When San looks up, there's a certain emotion in Seonghwa's gaze that he can't grasp, before he responds, "me too."

(Later that day, San's heaving with every deep breath he takes, his entire body shaking due to the coughing fit, but no matter how much the flowers tickle at his throat, no petal slips past his lips.

To say that San's confused would be an understatement.)

xii.

He leaves the bathroom feeling disoriented.

He feels like he's dissociating, but he hasn't done that in so long, he's not quite sure that's truly it. The hall fills with the quiet _pat pat pat_ of his socked feet against the floor, but he barely registers it as he stumbles into the door frame of the living room. Blinking, he's brought back to reality by Yunho's thoughtful hum.

His gaze casts to both the boy and Jongho sitting on the ground, cards held carefully in their hands just as some of them scattered across the room. Entire attention on the game, it takes Jongho a moment to notice his presence, and the younger turns to face him with a questioning raise of his eyebrows.

"Since when do you like playing cards?" he says before he even realizes it, and Jongho's gaze turns into a glare, while Yunho only shrugs with a lazy smile.

"Just because you don't like it doesn't mean we don't, either," comes Jongho's reply, his voice seemingly harsh, but they both know he's not actually irritated. It's just not often that he actually shows his affection.

That doesn't change the fact that San's still offended, "Iㅡ can't you let me live for once?"

The words earn him a snicker from Jongho and a warm chuckle from Yunho, who turns to face him properly and motions vaguely to the ground.

"Well," he starts, his hand lowering enough for Jongho to take a peek at his cards, "you can always join us? I'm sure Jongho won't mind!"

It takes approximately five seconds before Jongho's eyes widen comically and he whips his head around to meet San's gaze. If anything, he looks like he'd rather jump out the window than have his alone time with Yunho interrupted, and he sends San a pleading glance over Yunho's shoulder when he's sure the older's too preoccupied to notice.

And San gets it, he really does, so he only nibbles on his lip while looking for an excuse, "nah, I think I'm just gonna take a quick nap insteadㅡ you know, I'm feeling kind of sleepy, it's probably because of the schedule. You guys have fun though."

And before Yunho can reply, San's already backing out of the living room, and he sees the thankful look Jongho's sending him before he turns back to the game.

San's pretty sure he also hears him mumble _Yunho perish_ followed by a defeated groan from the said boy, but he doesn't feel like chiding the youngest for cheating so he only smiles before slipping away.

xiii.

It's 3:28 in the morning and San's sitting on the tiles of the kitchen floor in his sleepwear while eating mint chocolate chip ice cream straight out of the tube. An hour like this is perfect for bad decisions and questionable behaviour, and his messed up mind thinks it doesn't count as cheating if you eat something while everyone else is sleeping.

He'll regret it after he goes to bed, when he wakes up the next day, but right now, he acts as if his eating disorder is asleep, too.

The dorm is almost eerily silent at night. San's far from being used to it. Sure, it's not that unusual for it to be somewhat quiet, but never this much. There's always at least some kind of sound, be it either Seonghwa and Hongjoong talking about everything and nothing inside their room, their voices muffled through the walls, or Wooyoung sneaking out for a midnight snack.

This time, though, it's San, and San alone. The spoon in his hand clinks against his teeth when he takes another bite of the ice cream, and he's pretty sure some of it smears down his chin but he's too tired to care.

The floor is cold against his legs, but then, he's wearing thick sweatpants and pink fuzzy socks so he doesn't really feel it that much.

He's mid chew when the floor behind him creaks and he pauses. _Ghost, it's a fucking ghost_ , his mind supplies, _don't look back or it's gonna get you_. But hey, if the ghost killed him it would have to awkwardly greet him as their new ghost companion, and that wouldn't be very cool, but very much uneasy for the hypothetical spirit, so he guesses he's going to live and finally turns his head to the side to peek.

As it turns out, the doorway of the kitchen doesn't occupy a ghost, but a very real and very confused looking Hongjoong and oh, maybe it would be less awkward if it was actually a malevolent spirit that came for San specifically.

"Hi," he mumbles after a second of tense silence, lips still wrapped around the spoon, and Hongjoong keeps staring at him for a beat longer before he tips his head down and his shoulders shake with muffled laughter.

The soft chuckles that bubble out of the boy somehow reach San's heart and it skips a beat, his grip on the spoon loosening before he remembers to hold it properly. He has no idea how a person's laughter could chime in such an angelic way, but Hongjoong's voice manages to do that, and the fact fills his chest with a certain type of warmth.

"Isn't it a little too late for a midnight snack?" the boy finally says in lieu of a greeting, finally lifting his head up again and meeting San's eye. There's a small, amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and the sight is just cute enough for San's brain to stop working for a second, all his thoughts halting in order to admire the boy before him.

Blinking back to reality, he opens his mouth to reply, and the spoon almost falls out of his grip. He fumbles with it, earning himself a soft chuckle from Hongjoong, and he can actually feel his cheeks dusting pink.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Tilting his head to the side, Hongjoong looks pointedly at the tub of ice cream in his hands before stepping closer and making himself comfortable on the floor, right next to San. He notes briefly how the other's close enough to have their thighs touching with any small movement, but neither pulls back.

"I guess you're right."

Now that the two of them are actually enjoying each other's presence, alone in the empty kitchen, it's that San remembers just how much he's missed this.

After he's realized his unrequited feelings for Hongjoong, he's done everything to avoid spending time one on one with the leader, afraid of letting himself slip and somehow make Hongjoong notice his stupid puppy crush on him.

But now, his very crush is sitting next to him, looking at him expectantly. Hongjoong's gaze falls to the run of ice cream before locking on San's face again, his eyebrows rising as he blinks innocently at San.

It's obvious what the boy wants from him, and San holds back a snicker as he scoops a bit of the ice cream onto his spoon.

He watches as Hongjoong's lips part when San brings the spoon back up, and he has half a mind to tease the older and pull away at the last second to eat it himself ㅡ but Hongjoong seems so ridiculously excited, eyes widened and unfairly adorable as he stares down at the spoon in San's hand ㅡ and San has no heart to actually do it.

That's why he ends up feeding the other, Hongjoong's eyes flitting up to meet his own and he smiles around the spoon. He kind of looks like a puppy. Or a child. Or whatever else that people usually find cute.

San's so close to losing his mind.

xiv.

So, he's heard of the whole screaming-into-a-pillow-to-relieve-tension thing. He's pretty sure everyone's heard of that, or even done it at some point. Personally, he's never actually tried it. But now? Now he suddenly sees the appeal.

(Not that he'd actually do it. He doesn't have a room of his own, unfortunately, and doing that would probably wake up Yunho, which he really wouldn't want to happen. So he can only grip the said pillow to his chest, tightening the hold every now and then when he feels especially worked up.)

Because he's already back in his room, buried under his warm, fluffy blanket and it would all be just perfect if he was actually able to fall asleep.

But he can't.

Because his mind keeps replaying the Not-So-Ghostly Hongjoong Encounter, his adorable tiny frame and the cute little chuckles he huffed out after San pulled the spoon back, too flustered to say anything and choosing to stuff his face with ice cream instead.

Except, he must've miscalculated the amount of it that could fit on a single spoon, because before he knew it, Hongjoong's soft palm was already framing his chin, his thumb wiping at the corner of San's lips before licking the cream off his finger.

And it's just unfair, how the boy could unknowingly make San's heart race without even trying to. Even more so, because now, the scene keeps replying in his head, and his skin still seems to burn with Hongjoong's touch, and the thought of it keeps him up ㅡ but ironically, he knows he's the only one so affected by it.

Because he's sure, to Hongjoong it must've meant nothing. Hongjoong doesn't see him this way. He has Seonghwa for that.

San's only a teammate of his. He knows his boundaries, just as he knows for sure that Hongjoong's simply out of his league.

He just kind of wishes he wasn't.

(After barely managing to catch an hour of sleep, he wakes up with a dull pain in his chest and a scratchy throat.

But, once again, no petals slip past his lips when he coughs into his fist.)

xv.

Staring up at the blank ceiling, he comes to a conclusion ㅡ no matter how much he wants to, he's not going to fall back asleep today.

So he glares some more, sighs, and rolls off the bed.

He takes his time picking out his outfit for the day. He's not exactly sure as to why. Maybe it's his mind that's done with wearing pyjamas and stolen clothes of his fellow members all the time. Maybe it's his poor attempt at hiding how tired he feels after spending almost the entire night up.

Maybe it's the only thing that gives him an impression of having his life together.

Yunho's still sleeping peacefully when he leaves the room, curled in on himself in a position that can't possibly be comfortable, one of his legs hanging off from the bed and not one of his pillows anywhere near his head. San would probably do something about that, if he wasn't too worried about accidentally waking him up, too.

The sight of Seonghwa sitting comfortably in the living room stops him on his way to the kitchen, though.

He doesn't have his phone with him, so he can't check, but he's sure the hour is still awfully early. Yet Seonghwa seems unbothered, amused, even, as he scrolls trough his phone, and not even two seconds pass by, before he tilts his head up and looks straight back at San. As if sensing San's gaze on himself.

The soft smile Seonghwa sends him punches the air out of his chest.

"Why are you up?" he calls out, shifting his weight from one leg to another. The thought of breakfast still nagging at the back of his mind, he's unsure whether to enter the room or not. But Seonghwa's grin looks so friendly, so inviting, it almost feels as if his own body made the choice for him, and the next thing he knows, he's already stepping closer to where the older is sitting.

His eyes follow the movement as Seonghwa shrugs, "you know I'm a light sleeper," and oh. Yeah. Right.

They've probably woken him up while midnight snacking in the kitchen. Except it wasn't midnight. Late night snacking? Early morning snacking? San's eyebrows wrinkle at the thought.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share a room. Of course the older would wake up as soon as Hongjoong got back to his bed.

Suddenly, he feels just a tiny bit guilty.

But then, there's a tug at the sleeve of his shirt, and he's met with the sight of Seonghwa shaking his head lightly.

"It's okay. Come here," he says, tugging San down, and there's really nothing he can do except make himself comfortable next to the older and accept his fate.

But Seonghwa doesn't let go.

Instead, he feels his palm catch his own wrist before sliding just a tad bit lower. His hands are so soft, San's mind supplies, and it's true. They're also slightly bigger than his own, contrary to Hongjoong, whom San has always liked to tease over having baby hands.

Now that he's on the other end of it, his throat suddenly feels tight.

"Why?" he mumbles, because that's the only words that he's able to utter at the moment. Seonghwa doesn't meet his eye, as he's already turned back to scroll through his phone again, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips, and San's chest feels funny.

Lacing their fingers together as if it's nothing, the blonde replies, "I like the way your hand fits in mine."

San doesn't understand what the older makes him feel, setting his skin ablaze with just a simple touch alone, but he thinks, maybe. Maybe he likes this.

xvi.

He should have known this would happen sooner or later.

It's okay. You can't hide something forever. It's the nature of secrets ㅡ they get revealed one way or another. Eventually. No matter how hard you try to repress them.

And San really shouldn't have believed he could hide it from Wooyoung forever. They're best friends, after all.

He guesses he just kind of hoped he could withstand it a little bit longer.

It started off innocently. With a whine of _we barely spend any time together lately, San_ and a realization of yeah, that's actually true. Shoot.

And sleepovers aren't really a thing when you literally live at the same dorm together, but somehow, they made it work. They asked Yunho nicely if they could swipe the rooms for one night ㅡ or rather, kicked him out, but the older owned him this one, anyway ㅡ and didn't waste their time making a blanket fort on San's bed, borrowing his roommate's bedsheets while they're at it.

There's this one movie Wooyoung wanted to watch, he said. San's pretty sure he's heard of it in passing, and agreed immediately, but realized his mistake halfway through.

It's a romance.

And the back of his throat tingles uncomfortably.

At first, he doesn't even pay it any attention. It's easy to ignore, when it only reminds him of the annoyance when a cat hair gets stuck at the back of your neck, but that's nothing dangerous.

It's when it actually starts to hurt that he starts to panic.

Scratching at his jaw absentmindedly, he tries to clear his throat and he can see Wooyoung glancing at him from the corner of his eye. But he only waves his hand at him dismissively, and the younger doesn't ask.

It all goes to shit when the protagonist kisses her new girlfriend and he feels his throat close up.

After so much time without coughing up flowers, he's almost forgotten how terrifying it can be, and how painfully dry it leaves his throat as he wheezes for breath. There are petals spilling from his lips again, for the first time in what feels like forever, and he doesn't even bother trying to hide it this time. He knows there's no use.

Not when Wooyoung's horrified gaze is locked on the hand shielding his mouth, and the flowers that fall down onto the covers.

It's finally the time to do some explaining, he guesses, and he finds it does feel a bit relieving when he gets to share the secret with someone else.

("Why haven't you told me earlier?" Wooyoung asks several moments after he's done explaining. He doesn't sound demanding, nor like he's judging, but more like he's just worried. San's really so grateful for his best friend.

"I was scared," he admits.

Scared of telling the truth.

Scared that somehow, admitting it out loud would make this much more real.

As if ignoring it would make it go away. But it didn't.

And maybe Wooyoung doesn't reply, but maybe it's for the best. Instead, he only brings San closer, and they spend the entire night cuddling.

Waking up in his best friend's arms, he realizes he's not as tired of it anymore.)

xvii.

Here's the thing, though.

He didn't really notice it at the time, too preoccupied with the horror of someone finding out what he's tried to hide for so long now, and then coming clean to Wooyoung.

But later, after Wooyoung went to his own room and San was left to get rid of the petals, he's realized one thing.

Those weren't the same flowers as before.

Compared to the previous, vibrant yellow petals, these seem paler. Duller.

He blinks at what he learns later are purple lilacs in his palm, and carefully tucks them all into a paper towel before throwing them away.

This time, he's already learnt to research as soon as possible, and so he doesn't waste his time before he googles their meaning.

And the result seems to be mocking him.

Purple lilacs, symbolizing the first emotions of love. Kind of ironic, kind of sad, but despite it all, his chest feels lighter, as if a certain weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

He's not confused by it anymore. This time, he knows immediately what all of this means.

The reflection of his face meets his eye in the screen of his phone as he murmurs, Iㅡ

_"I think I like them both."_

(A crash from behind him startles him enough to whirl around. The door of his shared room is wide open, and he comes face to face with a wide-eyed Yunho, holding his forehead as if he's just bumped into it.

Yunho has heard him say it. He knows.

San's really not as good at holding secrets as he first thought he was.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should stop making new wips and properly finish at least one of these fics kshskfj  
> anyway, i hope you liked this chapter! feel free to hmu on my tumblr, [@starryhwa](https://starryhwa.tumblr.com/), and my new twitter [@heartjoongs](https://twitter.com/heartjoongs) or my new [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/heartjoongs)!! i literally just made the both of them, but i'd be more than happy to hear what you think of my writing!


	3. i didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is UP i finally finished this 🤡  
> tbh... based on how the first chapter has 5 times more comments than the second, that Kinda Makes It Look like no one even wanted this fic to end... so i'm only posting this for the sake of my own satisfaction. And also because i wanted to share this with harleigh. hm  
> anyways. this is unbeta'd, but i hope you'll like it anyway!!

xviii.

"What."

The word falls flat, sounding more like a statement than a question. Yunho's staring at him with undeniable shock, confusion written all over his features as he lowers his hand, and San's brain short-circuits.

"What?" he replies, hoping to sound as innocent as possible. Yunho only squints at him.

"Don't play dumb," damn. Caught red handed.

Speechless, he gestures for Yunho to come closer. The older carefully shuts the door behind him before he makes his way over, sitting with his legs crossed on the opposite side of the bed. He's looking at San as if he were an enigma, but San can't really blame him. Yunho _did_ technically hear something he wasn't really... supposed to.

"So," the boy starts, cutting himself off immediately. If Yunho wants to ask first, San won't interrupt him. Instead, he waits patiently as the other taps his knees nervously, looking for the right words, "you... like someone? ' _Them both_ '?"

Hesitantly, he nods, "yeah. I just didn't realize that I liked the both of them until like, right as you walked in, I guess," he adds in with a sheepish smile. God, what are the chances? It's actually... a little bit funny, now that he thinks about it. Both Yunho walking in, in that exact moment, and — the fact that, all this time, it wasn't actually him being jealous over Seonghwa dating Hongjoong, but him wanting to be a part of it — their relationship.

Now, he's kind of embarrassed of how hard he's tried to blame his feelings on Seonghwa.

"You want to know who?"

It's hilarious, how fast Yunho nods, so curious about the answer. It hits San how ridiculous he was to hide it from Yunho, from all of them. Yunho's a great friend, he's always been. Now his former actions seem... kind of silly.

"Hongjoong, I've liked him... for a pretty long while now," he says, counting on his fingers, "and Seonghwa. But, yeah, this one's kind of... new. Fresh info, just for you."

They both laugh. It's relieving — how easily Yunho takes it. It doesn't look like something the other expected, or even just suspected, but, "God— everything makes so much sense, now."

San doesn't bother hiding his eyeroll, "yeah, tease me all you want, whatever," but then an idea pops into his mind, suddenly reminded of Jongho and his own secret crush on the boy in front of him. Carefully, he adds, "but, Yunho... do _you_ have any crushes right now?"

The words make Yunho pause, and San tries to pay extra attention to any external reaction. He sees it, when Yunho's gaze flickers down to the covers, when his fingers fiddle with the sheet as if to calm his nerves. He glances up at San, but then averts his eyes again, until he finally says, "I... I don't know."

San holds back any confused comments, instead nodding for the older to go on.

"I mean, I've been thinking about it? Probably more than anyone usually would," he shrugs, an embarrassed smile making its way to his lips, "I don't think I'm gay— I do like girls, but... boys? I'm not sure. Maybe?"

"It's okay to question yourself," ha, San still even does it sometimes. It would be hypocritical to say otherwise. It's never too late to discover something about one's self; if Yunho's struggling to do so, San will do anything to support his friend.

And as he reassures him, Yunho's tense posture soothes, his shoulders relaxing and he finally meets San's eye, even if he's still anxiously fiddling with the sheets.

"You think so?" his eyes wide opened, hopeful.

"I know so."

Yunho's smile widens, before he shifts closer and throws his arms around San, hugging him close to his chest. And San? San's just happy to be there for him.

xix.

After the realization, eating breakfast with the rest of the members, it's hard for him to keep his eyes away from Seonghwa.

Because, how could have he been so blind? Not just towards his feelings, but now that he truly _looks_ at the other, he finds himself enchanted. His heart flutters in his chest, his cheeks heating up whenever Seonghwa so much as smiles, and he's amazed at how truly deep in denial he's been.

He feels a nudge to his arm, turning to face a grinning Yunho. He pointedly ignores Jongho's teasing stare, rolling his eyes at Yunho before nudging him back. There's someone else that would be so much more delighted than San to have Yunho's attention on him, so he makes sure to push him in the said boy's direction, chuckling at the flustered noises the both of them make.

He hasn't felt so comfortable in the middle of breakfast in a long time.

He's faintly aware of Mingi teasing the duo now, of Yeosang scrolling through his phone as he eats. The heavy rain outside has caused for their schedule to cancel today, as they can't film in such weather — but San's actually pretty happy about the fact. It's not often that they get a day just to themselves, and get to spend it all together.

One can only guess when the storm will end, but San hopes it stays like this until the evening.

He feels someone's gaze, burning the side of his face. Without thinking it through, he glances back at them, startled to meet Hongjoong's eye. But the boy only smiles, reminding San of the night they hung out in the kitchen, and looks away, unaware of his effect on San's heart.

And the thing is, San still feels guilty about eating. Recovery is a tricky thing, it takes energy and doesn't erase the time one has spent suffering, but he's trying. He's trying, and he takes another bite even as his own thoughts judge how much calories there might be. He's not going to run away this time. It's only a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Half an hour later, he's relieved to find himself in the bathroom not due to bulimia, but a coughing fit of lilac flower petals.

xx.

The door pushes open with a high-pitched creak, and San winces at the sound, stopping in his tracks to get rid of the uneasy feeling it filled him with. Two seconds pass until he finally opens his eyes again, and he startles when he finds Hongjoong standing right next to the doorway. One of his eyebrows raised, he's looking at San with something not far off from concern in his eyes, and for a second, San wishes this wasn't real — just a hallucination. Or that ghost San was so afraid of before.

San would much rather it be that ghost than Hongjoong, at least right at this moment.

Because he's just stepped out of the bathroom, where he's almost coughed his lungs out, and he's pretty sure that if the other has been standing here the entire time, he's had to hear it. Had to hear something, be it him wheezing or cursing under his breath — both didn't mean anything good to San.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Hongjoong asks, because of course he would. He shifts his weight from one leg to another, looking nervous, as if he's the one being questioned, not San. It makes San's chest feel kind of funny.

Hand on the handle, he pushes the door further, taking a step closer without really noticing. Hongjoong does notice it, though. San sees the way his eyes flicker down to his legs, then flit up to meet his eyes again, but he doesn't do anything to widen the gap between them. San isn't sure whether he's grateful for that, or if it sparks the nerves in him even further.

"Yeah, my throat just hurts a bit, I think I caught a cold."

_Liar_ , his mind nags at him. He's gotten used to ignoring it, though.

The words seem to be enough, though, as Hongjoong only sighs in relief, before sending a shy smile San's way, "shouldn't have eaten all that ice cream, then."

The thing is, San doesn't know exactly what it is, but something's changed about the way Hongjoong acts around him. Sure, he's noticed it before, but he didn't pay it much mind. But it strucks him then that, yeah, this isn't what San's used to. He's seen Hongjoong sad, he's seen him trying to hide his insecurities around the rest of the members. They've all seen it.

But he hasn't seen Hongjoong so shy, so careful around the others. Apart from Seonghwa, maybe, before they even started dating.

He's not sure why Hongjoong would act like this around him, though.

Instead of calling him out, he just chuckles, "I guess you're right."

xxi.

It's still storming outside.

He's perched up on the windowsill, staring blankly out the window. Mingi's sitting on the opposite side, clad in the one comfortable jumper San always likes to steal, er, borrow from him. The windowsill isn't nearly wide enough to fit them both, but they make it work.

A part of him wishes the storm would last for a day or two longer. He likes how comfortable it feels, staying inside their dorms for so much longer than they usually do. Not to say he doesn't want to work anymore, no. He just likes this small moment shared between them. The eight of them; they're co-workers, but friends first and foremost.

He's reminded of the fact when Mingi pokes his thigh, but avoids his eye when San playfully glares at him. Though, the moment he turns away to face the window, Mingi pokes him again, and that's all it takes for San to throw himself at the other in a tickle fight. They almost fall when Mingi tips backwards, but they're lucky enough to regain their balance; throughout their struggle, he's faintly aware of Yeosang and Seonghwa's judging stares on his back.

Anyway, he's having fun. It's their loss for not joining in.

"I win," he says, not even bothering to hide how self-satisfied he feels, but it only lasts for so long until he sees the mischievous glint in Mingi's eye.

"Oh, did you?"

And he should have seen it. They both probably should. But they got ahead of themselves, and this time when Mingi pushes him, it's with a bit too much force. Before he even knows it, he's already on the floor, eyes wide in shock and _God_ , his back fucking _hurts_.

Mingi at least has the decency to look apologetic as he peers down at him from the windowsill. But San just feels amused more than anything, and he can't stop himself in time as he bursts into laughter.

Soon after, Mingi joins in, clearly taking it as a sign that San's okay. But not everyone does, apparently, because in the next few seconds, the room is filled with the sound of rushed footsteps and San looks up just in time to see Seonghwa kneeling down next to him.

He's not sure what to call the expression on the older's face. He looks conflicted, torn between what San assumed must be irritation and concern, and he sighs harshly as he looks San over.

"Does it hurt?"

San's about to shrug, but thinks better of it in time, reminded of the dull ache at his back, "a bit," he admits, but then he sees his chance and he adds, "will you kiss it better?"

The reaction he gets from everyone almost makes him giggle. He hears Mingi snort, and a groan reaches them from where he's pretty sure Yeosang is pretending to ignore them in order of reading a book, and that's enough to have him crack a smile. What really gets to him, though, is the way Seonghwa pauses for a beat, before throwing his head back with a chuckle. It's light, quiet enough that San would have probably missed it if he weren't paying enough attention, but it fills his chest with this familiar, comfortable warmth.

He likes it when Seonghwa smiles like that, especially if he's the reason for it.

"Such a kid," is all Seonghwa says, but then he places his hand right under San's jaw, tipping his head up, and brushes his lips over San's forehead.

At that exact moment, San's only fully aware of two things.

One, he wasn't expecting this to work. He expected Seonghwa to laugh, brush it off, then act as if it never happened. He's not sure how to feel about this, now.

Two, his heart is going to burst out of his chest any moment now. Christ.

As Seonghwa's touch lingers for a few seconds longer than San thinks people would deem necessary, he knows a blush blooms over his cheeks. Then, the older finally pulls back, smiling at San — does he look fond, or is it hyst wishful thinking? — and without a word, leaves to join Yeosang on the couch again.

And San doesn't bring his hand up to touch his forehead, no, absolutely not. He's too busy trying to hide how flustered the action left him. Because his skin still tingles where Seonghwa's lips rested, the physical contact enough for San to almost have a crisis over. Whether it's because he's so touch starved, or because it's _Seonghwa_ , out of all people — he's not sure.

But he knows that the next few minutes he spends trying to calm himself down while simultaneously sending Mingi death glares whenever the other starts to tease him.

San is really, truly, head over heels in love. Which also means, he's so, utterly fucked.

xxii.

He can still hear the thunder outside when he walks into his shared room. His eyelids feel heavy, and he's pretty sure he's going to fall asleep sooner rather than later. Dragging his feet, he pauses and blinks when he notices someone else is already occupying the room.

The door was wide open, the lights turned off, so it's pretty obvious he wasn't expecting it. But right there, on Yunho's bed, both him and Jongho sit, lost in a conversation that doesn't reach San's ears. They've both already changed into their sleepwear, and as San squints at the duo, he can barely make out their linked hands.

It feels... intimate. Like something San probably shouldn't have walked in on.

So he backs out, as quietly as he can, and gently pushes the door closed.

He has to admit, he spends more than necessary time just standing there, thinking this situation through. But he's sleepy, and his brain refuses to work properly, so it's pretty understandable, right?

First things first, though. Before he crashes in the middle of the hall, he makes his way to the bathroom. Fortunately, his room is the closest to it, so it doesn't take long until he's already inside, yawning before reaching for his toothbrush.

The task of putting the toothpaste on it seems so much harder when he's this sleepy, but he'll manage. He blinks, glares at it when a bit of the paste drips into the sink, but in the end he's somewhat successful.

He's in the middle of brushing his teeth when Seonghwa joins him. He doesn't seem to have such a hard time as San, and they share a smile, holding eye contact through the mirror.

It's San that speaks first.

He bends down to wash his mouth, and prompts Seonghwa only when he's done, "I think they're having a sleepover in my bedroom."

Seonghwa only hums around his toothbrush, but his eyes are fixed on San's figure. San can't lie, he's enjoying the amount of attention the other is giving him.

"Can I crash at yours?" he adds, hoping that he doesn't sound as hopeful as he feels. Seonghwa's still not done, though, and he pauses for a beat before shrugging. He makes a sound, one that feels somewhat affirming, but still not clear enough for San to be sure.

So he decides to just wait, leaning against the bathroom door, his gaze not leaving Seonghwa for one second. Maybe he's being too obvious, but he can't help it. It's a bit of a domestic sight — here Seonghwa is, right in front of him, casually brushing his teeth. His face is bare from makeup, yet he still manages to look so stunning, San kind of can't believe it. Blonde hair frames his face, swept to one side, even though a few locks refuse to point in the same direction as the rest. It's messy, but soft. That he's sure of — he's played with Seonghwa's hair enough times to know.

It's when Seonghwa turns around, dabbing at his lips with the closest towel, that San's pulled back to reality.

Seonghwa's face is unreadable, not even for San. It sparks a sense of uncertainty in him, because all of sudden, Seonghwa's gaze is so, so _intense_. He's kind of afraid to breathe.

San almost flinches when he feels a light touch at his chin, Seonghwa's thumb rubbing his skin gently, like it would break if only he applied any more pressure. It's a fitting metaphor, if only because San feels like he really could shatter any moment now.

For a second, he forgets about anything existing outside of this one, dorm bathroom. Seonghwa Vision — something he'd usually joke about, but now, the older's face truly is all he can see, all he can focus on. The way Seonghwa hesitates, unsure of his own actions, it makes San feel a bit better to know that he's not the only one nervous.

Seonghwa's face is so close; San doesn't know which one of them leaned in, nor did he notice the exact moment that it happened. This way, he's pretty sure he could count every single eyelash of his. It might sound cliché, but it's the truth. He would do it, willingly, if only he had enough time. Now, though?

Now the only thing he can think about is how Seonghwa's still too far away from him.

And so, he lets his eyes fall shut and closes the distance between them.

xxiii.

The kiss was, well, not exactly the most romantic thing in the world. It happened in a bathroom, of all places, after all. That's minus one romantic point. Right?

He doesn't care about that, though. What he cares about is Seonghwa's hand in his hair, their chests touching and the gentle press of lips against his. Slow and sensual, as they don't have to rush. The faint taste of mint lingers on his tongue even after they part, and he rests his forehead against Seonghwa's own. He doesn't want to open his eyes just yet, afraid that it'll all turn out to be just a dream, and he'll wake up again, alone in his own bed.

He focuses on the way Seonghwa's fingers play with his locks, on the warm puff of breath hitting his skin. Despite his fear, Seonghwa is still right here, breathing the same air as him, and the realization fills his chest with the same, familiar warmth.

When he finally chances a peek, he finds the other already meeting his gaze. His eyes half-lidded, irises blown, it's almost too much for San to take. Neither of them speak, not yet, as if they both are still processing what has happened. It takes him a second too long to notice the deep red dusting Seonghwa's cheeks, but when he does, he can't hold back a smile.

He hears it, the hitch in Seonghwa's breath. He doesn't have the time to ponder what it means, though, because then Seonghwa licks his lips, before whispering, "does this mean... you feel the same way?" he pauses, taking a deep breath, as if to calm his nerves, "about us? Or... about me?"

And San almost laughs. It feels ridiculous, the fact that Seonghwa still feels the need to ask, as if San hasn't been extremely obvious about his affection. As if they hadn't just kissed.

Scratch that, he still huffs out a chuckle.

"If you're asking whether I like you both, the answer is yes."

It feels freeing, finally being able to say it. To stop lying about his feelings to the very person he's draw to. He's truly been missing out.

The moment the words leave his lips, Seonghwa breaks into a grin so wide, so relieved, it's almost blinding. He looks so... beautiful.

"Hongjoong's going to be so happy to hear this."

xxiv.

They enter Seonghwa and Hongjoong's shared room while holding hands. It still makes San weirdly happy, how well his palm fits in Seonghwa's, how warm and gentle the hold is. He can already tell it's going to be one of his favourite things to do; simply holding Seonghwa's hand, occasionally pressing a peck or two to his wrist or knuckles. He doesn't know yet if Seonghwa's a big fan of this kind of affection display, but San himself likes to shower people with love, be it platonic or romantic.

Hongjoong's already in the room, lying on the lower bunk. He must have heard them come in, but based on his lack of reaction, he's only expecting Seonghwa, unaware of San's presence.

The thing is, Seonghwa and him talked a bit on the way here. Not enough to fully cover everything about a relationship in this industry, not to mention a polyamorous one, but enough for tonight. They can negotiate more tomorrow, when they're all rested and their minds aren't clouded with sleep.

But because of that conversation, now San knows that it's okay for him to let go of Seonghwa's hand and run up to the bed, just to throw himself at an unsuspecting Hongjoong.

The older's reaction is hilarious. He yelps, tries to wiggle out of San's hold, before he notices who, exactly, is holding him. Then he only whines, frustrated, but he doesn't try to push San away anymore.

And San's waited so long to be able to do this. To burrow his head in Hongjoong's neck, to smell the shampoo he doesn't let anyone else use, to stay like this for longer than necessary, just because he feels like it.

Hongjoong's chuckle rumbles through his chest.

When San lifts his head, he can tell Hongjoong's exchanging glances with Seonghwa, who's still yet to join them on the bed. There's a confused tilt to his eyebrows, but he looks content otherwise.

"What's with the sudden attention?" he asks, turning his gaze back to San, and San's heart clenches. He still looks like an angel. Goodness.

Instead of answering the question, he just replies, "I like you."

He watches as Hongjoong's expression changes, from confused, to surprised, to happy and to fond. Soon after, he turns away, clearly embarrassed, but San isn't done yet. If he's already able to say it, he's going to be as affectionate as he can. Insufferable, even.

He just wants to make sure they both know how much he truly loves them.

Burying his head in Hongjoong shoulder, he adds, "so much. I love you both so much, you don't even know."

And, yeah, maybe it might be a bit too early for the word _love_ , but San feels it fits. He's known them for years now. Even if they haven't been as close as lovers are, he already loves them as friends. The entire group feels like family, like home. In these circumstances, he's pretty sure he has all the right to say he _loves_ them.

And maybe he doesn't get an immediate response from Hongjoong, who's still trying to hide his blushing face, but then the bed dips as Seonghwa lowers himself.

There's definitely not enough space for three grown men on this bunk bed, and even as Seonghwa tries to squeeze himself between them and the wall, he still has to partly lean over San. He throws his arm over San's chest, grasping Hongjoong's palm, and lets out a satisfied hum.

It's comfortable. They don't really know what they're doing yet, and a long talk awaits them in the morning, but this... feels right.

San could fall asleep like this.

And he did.

xxv.

_(A gentle press of lips against his temple is what he wakes up to the next morning._

_It's Hongjoong's smile that greets him next, and San knows; he's a goner._

_That morning, he coughs up a single petal. And as days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, he doesn't do it since.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like this ending? :0  
> I'm not going to write more of this universe, bc personally i'm satisfied with how this, but i'd still love to hear your opinions!!
> 
> also, feel free to hmu on my [tumblr](https://starryhwa.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/heartjoongs)!!

**Author's Note:**

> hey!!!! there's [art](https://twitter.com/cchaiart/status/1192500196401238016?s=20) based on this fic!!!!!! please go check it out and support the artist!!!!!! seeing it made me really happy aaaaaaaaaa ♡


End file.
